


Two bros, chilling on a huge ship, no feet apart cause they don't care!

by worddumb



Series: An AU, I think? [3]
Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Gen, a lot of drama, idk what you expect at this point, maybe philosophy, the title exists to piss people off hopefully, tragedy? kinda? death? meaninglessness?, yeah that fits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 15:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: Alternative titles include, and are limited to: 'Two bros, chilling on a huge ship, acting out a tragedy cause can you stop them?' and honestly, the only reason I didn't use that one is because I found it in bad taste- to pick two over-descriptive titles in a row. And I like it worse.





	Two bros, chilling on a huge ship, no feet apart cause they don't care!

**Author's Note:**

> You won't believe the amount of times I misspelled 'title'. You won't FREAKING BELIEVE-

It was a quiet, sunny day on the pirate islands. Cleo was messing around with the armor stand book, trying to figure out how it works- so far, in very confusing ways, but she could definitely see how it could help her once she understands what is what and why it’s that- Xisuma hadn't lie, when he’d said it would make creating statues a lot easier. She would not have to worry about anatomy and proportions being off ever again, if she masters this glorious little thing! 

Too absorbed in the world of words, signs and numbers, she failed to notice soft paddling of an approaching boat, and was rather suddenly yanked out of her zen-like state by a hand laying itself on her head, a judging voice filling the air: “Sitting here, in the sun, with no hat, aren’t you scared your brain’ll go bad?” Turning around and facing the intruder, Cleo put on the best glare she could manage: “Well, that was rude”. A happy, innocent smile spread on their face, as Joe ‘bastard’ Hills put one hand on his chest, and, looking down at her, proclaimed: “Exactly what I was aiming for”. “Rrright”- putting as much disbelief in her voice as she could, she hardened the glare, staring into his soul and obviously disapproving everything she saw. At least trying to. Probably failing. 

After a few seconds of that stare down (quite literally, in Joes case), both of them started giggling, slowly growing louder as it went on- Joe rather harshly basing onto her head, since he never actually retrieved that hand, and Cleo using both her arms as support beams to prevent them from going down, before they could compose themselves, as they often did. 

Getting it back together remarkably fast, Joe leaned against wooden railing of the ship, looking down at a smiling Cleo- who’s put the book away already- and done what any normal person would do first hand: said “hi”, in the most calm tone he could master up right now. She responded in vain, though a little less believable, way too amused to have _any_ ability to hide it. “So, Cleo, my most dearest undead friend, tell me: what chu’ve been up too on this beautiful day?”- still keeping on the nonchalant facade, Joe had a perfect poker face in place, lips quirking ever so slightly upwards- if you knew him any less than she did, you’d probably miss the playfulness in his posture all together.

Cleo being Cleo (aka- dramatic), decided to play along in the best way she could currently come up with: “Oh, noting interesting, just learning something life changing, so nothing, nothing important at all”- that got her friend to smile pleasantly, sliding down the railing a little, hooves making a rather unpleasant, scratchy sound against wood: “Good, good. See, Cleo”- he straightened up again, kicking himself away from the railing- “I came here for a reason”. Oh, she didn’t doubt that- they were on that stage of friendship, where using the others name anytime, but when talking about them, was to awaken suspicion and tension, and he’s just used hers twice in a row! She could definitely get behind that.

Joe carried on, going around her slowly, gestures carefully exaggerated: “Lately, I’ve been feeling sad, and empty, and like a void of life”- she had to shift on her butt to follow his movements, as he went completely behind her back- “And that just isn’t doing it for me. As you may know”- he stopped, looking at her as if to emphasize his point or make sure she does, in fact, know- “I aspire to be a funny man- or, rather, The Funny Man- and what is a sad comedian, if not, you know, sad?” Cleo struggled not to laugh, coming up with a way to respond: “But Joe! You totally _are_ the funny man! You achieved your goal, so what you’re feeling must be lack of purpose!” The satyr leaned back a bit, widening his eyes to a comical extent and gathering a lot of skin around his horns in what would otherwise be a dramatic eyebrow raise, as if her remark punched him in the face: “Oh no! Why must gods be so cruel as to take mans only joy in life-“- he stumbled a bit, falling on his back, the other hand going to lay on his horns- “rob us, lowly mortals, of any chance at salvation-“- he was arching his back, in possibly the most theatrical agony on the face of Earth- “-and observe in amusement, as we wallow in our ever-lasting misery!” Falling limp, a lone tear ran down the side of his face, as he turned his head towards her ever so slightly: “Cleo!”- his voice was weak, and sounded so very broken, only just a hint of playfulness making it not at all believable- “I beg you, in sorrow, to end my pitiful life, as I have lost myself to their evil schemes in a foolish attempt of finding meaning in my pitiful life”. 

He lay there, motionless, only the heaving of his chest reminding he was still alive, as she made(attempted) a grimace of pain and regret, slowly rising to her feet and whipping out a falchion. Legs shaking, she raised it high above her head, pointing right down at his stomach, and let out a cry as she brought it down, fast and raw, eyes closed and tears running down her face (from blinking very hard, she wasn’t the best actor, but she was very creative). 

Joe cracked an eye open weakly, not moving an inch from where he lay on the floorboards. A soft, heart wrenching ‘Cleo..’ came out of his mouth, as the zombie looked at him, from where she crouched, leaning strongly on her, now deeply stuck in wood, falchion, face scrunched up in a disgruntled attempt at grief: “I… I’m sorry, Joe.. I, I couldn’t do it, you’re my best friend, I-“ She was cut off, as he tackled her in hug- she would definitely fall if not for her death-grip on the sword- crying out ‘Cleo!’ with passion and too much laughter for it to pass as serious. She responded in kind, latching onto him as hard as she could, till the end trying to disguise her laughter as crying, as she exclaimed ‘Joe!’, and tried to hide her face in his neck, to avoid any further acting exercise- she may not be a student, but come on. 

They stayed like that, breathing heavily, for about a second, before starting to curl into each other, gripping tighter, trying to hold back as long as they could- it was almost a competition, who would break first?

Not very surprisingly, it was Cleo, bursting out laughing and butting her forehead into Joes chest, feeling him lay his horns on her back, shaking with laughter as well, both of them exhausted from constraining it for so long and letting it out all at once, snorting and sobbing and being so freacking happy for at least half a minute, trying to say something between laughs, that only fueled both of them to laugh more, almost soundless, many words- rather helpless words- passed between them as they died from absolute ecstasy only laughing over something very dumb with a friend can bring- 

Just like she broke first, Cleo gathered herself up way before Joe, still grinning as she listened to her friends semi-comprehensive babbling, since he could hardly even giggle anymore- laughing was a hard job, and she was probably lucky she didn’t really have a gut to hurt from it anymore, otherwise hanging out with pretty much anyone on the server would be a pain. Or not, considering hermits (the irony in this one would never not be amusing) hung out all the time, sometimes with no lunch-breaks to speak of, and they were hardly more composed than her and Joe are- so maybe she was wrong there, it was hard to judge with nothing to compare her experience to.

Pushing Joe carefully away by the shoulders, she straightened up, a crooked smile on her tear-stained image doing the opposite of calming him down, electing a small grunt and a butt with- rather dull, as he would regularly grind them down- horns from the satyr. He looked up again, blue goat eyes locking with Cleos emerald  probably human ones, face red with one of those smiles you can’t control or subdue plastered firmly on it, voice a little shaky and very disbelieving, all said in one exhale: “And I applied for this!” The zombie let out one startled, full body laugh, getting a hold of herself again rather quickly, while Joe still tried desperately (and fruitlessly) to even out his breathing and not die from suffocation.

“I can’t- I just can’t-“- he was absolutely failing to talk, too breathless and tired- “Are you- Are you one of those-“- he hiccuped, making a squeaking noise- “Gods? I just-“ Like the evil mob she is, Cleo made a serious face- or rather, pretended to try and make a serious face- and lifted Joes chin to meet her eyes again: “Yes, yes I am”. He shook a little bit, butting her- left shoulder, this time- almost not making sound- though maybe she just couldn’t hear very well. She did turn off the master volume setting, probably heard a bit worse all along, but failed to notice until now- that would certainly explain not noticing Joe approach, hooves on wood and all, probably jumping over the railing as well.

Just as they were calming down, both their communicators went off urgently, startling them both into some sort of distraught mix of a coughing fit and laughter, finally separating to help themselves calm- those pings was important, probably, so that seemed like a good idea. They both opted for laying starfished on their backs, just breathing in hopes of not setting themselves off again at whatever was so aggressively trying to get their attention.

Inevitably, relaxing made Cleo feel all the things she was way to distracted to acknowledge before- her fingertips were buzzing in a weirdly pleasant way, so she probably broke her nails pretty badly, and she was kind of sweaty- a thing to never be understood, she had no blood to speak of, but for some unphantomable reason still had saliva and sweat? How does that even _work_, who designed it, she just wanted to talk- so this little game they had definitely didn’t leave her unscathed, and frankly- it never did. Tuning all those fun sensations out, Cleo sat up, flicking her wrist to reveal a communicator- a curios little thing, that shown a lot of stuff, but mainly chat- the main chat was in it’s usual havoc, shining brightly not only from a barge of messages, but from a text forwarded specifically to her- and most likely to Joe as well. Since the satyr hasn’t made any moves to check it for himself, she opted to read the text out loud, bringing just a bit of their passed hysterics back and pushing Joe ‘bastard’ Hills into motion in the process, she was sorry in retrospect:

***_whoever changed name last tim- I'll grief u- doc_***

*****_GoodTimesWithScar_*****Hey, *****_JoeHillsTSD_***** and *****_ZombieCleo_*****! Could you please keep it down? I’m trying to film

*****_JoeHillsTSD_*** ** sorry Scar! will happen again

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, great, I can finally explain the chat game! So, it was a normal morning on Hermitcraft season 1 server, when everyone woke up to an extremely cryptic, vague and whatever other adjective(adjective? idk-) chat name I didn't come up with, because Joe has the power I could never posses. Like, it changed before, but people were nice and asked Xisuma beforehand, and than there's Joe- the founding father of many fundamental things in this AU, and a bastard basically everywhere. He's also the reason game night- this AU also has game night, thanks for asking- stuck around and became a tradition of sorts, because he is a nerd to the point he has DnD magic in this, sorry, headcanons, or are they canon in the realm of my AU that is completely OOC? I guess they are, wow. Also, would me posting a huge ramble of headcanons for this be at all interesting? Cause I'm weak, and can't incorporate them otherwise, and don't know how- it doesn't seem relevant to mention Cleos teeth are made of diamonds as a very interesting reference to something she deliberately made ever in any fic, if you ask me.  
Also, chat name doc was angry about was not made specifically to piss him off, he's just serving the society. Oh, I could make a bundle of The Chat Headcanons! I'm doing it, that's it, you can't escape-


End file.
